


The Cost of Failure

by CelticRune



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Elements of breathplay, M/M, Master/Pet, Sexual Slavery, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:35:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24325876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticRune/pseuds/CelticRune
Summary: The Collector is a man of taste. He is also nothing if not possessive, and he does not like it when his pets run away.
Relationships: Keiji (OC)/The Collector (OC)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	The Cost of Failure

The corset is a black lace, beautifully accentuated by the golden ribbon that keeps it tied. It’s the same shade of black as Keiji’s hair, which is once again neatly combed and slicked back.

It had gotten so awfully unkempt during his ill-advised escape attempt, but he looks far better now. All of him does, now that he’s naked aside from the corset and clean from his shower, with goosebumps still raised on his skin from the icy water. There are no bandages to ruin the view either, his guards took him down easily enough for that. His only, foolish injuries are the ugly black and blue bruises that mar his smooth, lithe torso and betray the bruised ribs lurking underneath, but well.

That’s what the corset is for. He holds Keiji’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and relishes the raw, hopeless defeat in his eyes as one of his aides pulls the corset tighter. Each tug on the laces draws another pained whimper from him, another fearful gasping breath that comes shallower the tighter the merciless boning squeezes his waist.

“One more, I do think,” The Collector murmurs. He squeezes Keiji’s chin once when he takes a breath as if to protest, but before he can see if his reprimand would have worked his aide pulls hard on the laces and Keiji’s breath leaves him in a cry of pain.

He is trembling, now. Miserable tears shine in his eyes but even as he struggles for breath (and each shallow gasp only squeezes his ribs tighter) he knows better than to pull away. His tan skin has gone pale with pain but his cheeks are flushed ruddy red with humiliation, and he has never looked lovelier.

The Collector absentmindedly dismisses his aide, who knots the laces keeping Keiji bound and leaves with a bow. “Here now” -he smooths a hand over Keiji’s tucked-in waist, admiring the curves the corset gives him- “isn’t this better?”

Keiji only looks at him, hatred lurking under the pain that makes his eyes water.

He tuts in disappointment and presses his hand more heavily against Keiji’s ribs. “You know better than this, Keiji.”

A pained gasp tears from Keiji’s lips and he tries to flinch, but with the corset straightening his spine he can’t so easily bend away. A few long moments pass where The Collector is already debating other methods of punishment that would nicely complement the corset. Perhaps an evening spent kneeling at his feet with his collar a few notches too tight will remind him of his place. “….Yes,” Keiji finally admits, perhaps unaware of what he has just spared himself from.

The Collector seals their lips together in a satisfied, unhurried kiss. “Good boy.” Keiji’s breath catches on a sob as tears spill down his cheeks, and he finally looks away.

Perhaps the collar, after all.


End file.
